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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398663">meow meow et chantez-moi</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyduckgreygoose/pseuds/greyduckgreygoose'>greyduckgreygoose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Animal Traits, Cats, First Time, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pining, Treat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:54:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyduckgreygoose/pseuds/greyduckgreygoose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt's eyes <i>dilated</i> when he became excited.</p>
<p>"Why are you staring at me?" Geralt asked suspiciously. </p>
<p>"No reason," Jaskier answered, thinking dismally that he was a cliche of a poet, scrawling <i>gold or amber? citrine? topaz?</i> in the margins of his notebook. He'd taken to wearing ribbons on his hat, a fashion that Geralt had insulted loudly many times (Jaskier took none of it to heart, because he well knew how ugly the thing was himself), even while his eyes flick-flick-flicked after the bobbing ends. </p>
<p>(or, Geralt has cat-like characteristics and Jaskier loves cats)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Holiday Horror 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>meow meow et chantez-moi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kameiko/gifts">Kameiko</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My favorite boys being morons + cats + head-petting</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In Lettenhove, Jaskier grew up surrounded by cats: friendly orange barn cats, sleek grey mousers that prowled the kitchens and pampered lap cats with dainty meows. They adored him, seemingly preternaturally, and Lady Lettenhove would often laugh that whenever there was a hue and a cry about a missing baby Julian he could be found curled asleep, surrounded by furry, purring bodies.</p>
<p>As he grew, Jaskier never lost his fancy for the peculiar animal. In Oxenfurt, he fed the local strays so regularly that they set up camp outside his bedroom window, much to the chagrin of the dormitory staff. </p>
<p>Were he called upon to explain himself, Jaskier would be more than happy to expound upon the grace, the regal air of the feline species. The mystery they held in the crook of their tails and the shine of their eyes. The sleek figures they cut while dashing through the night. The gentle persistence necessary to earn their trust. In truth, Jaskier had always been attracted to aloofness. </p>
<p>It explained, at least a little, his growing infatuation with a certain Witcher. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“<i>Pspspsps</i>,” Jaskier crouched down, offering his fingers for the calico street cat to sniff. She was wary, shying back as Jaskier reached for a bit of cheese he had stashed in his rucksack. “Oh you poor, lovely thing,” he cooed, “Let me just-” </p>
<p>The calico hissed, her back arching sharply before she whirled around and disappeared into the darkness of the alley. </p>
<p>Jaskier frowned. That was the third cat since Posada that had reacted like that to his advances. Brushing off his pant legs, he stood, stumbling into a firm body standing right behind him.  </p>
<p>“Whoa!” Jaskier stumbled back. “<i>Geralt</i>? ... how long have you been standing there?” </p>
<p>Geralt cocked his head, glancing beyond Jaskier to the alley. “You were taking too long.” </p>
<p>“Anyone ever tell you to make some noise when you move? Almost gave me palpitations,” Jaskier scowled, following as Geralt turned to walk away. “I oughta put a bell on you.” </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>"Cats hate Witchers," Geralt said flatly, after Jaskier had spent all of dinner complaining at length about how he hadn't been able to befriend <i>one cat</i> since they began traveling together. </p>
<p>Jaskier had gasped as if Geralt had slapped him. "What? Why?"</p>
<p>"Fuck if I know," Geralt took a deep drink of his tankard. It had always stung, just a little, being rebuffed by even animals. At least horses didn't judge him. </p>
<p>"It must be how you smell ... or something in your bearing," Jaskier said, his petty frustration shifting into interest, latching onto this new bit of Witcher information with a bright-eyed curiousity that made Geralt dread the humiliating ballad this would inevitably produce. "They're territorial animals, you know. Sensitive. Maybe they see you as another predator." </p>
<p>"Hm," Geralt said, and hoped that it was the end of the conversation.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>"...this <i>fucking</i>-" Jaskier muttered, pausing for the fifth time that day to stop and adjust the ribbon ties on the back of his jacket. They were <i>de rigueur</i> in Toussaint this season, but he was ready to throw up his hands and admit defeat. </p>
<p>Until he noticed Geralt's eyes snap to his ass, then slide away. </p>
<p>To prove himself that he wasn't imagining things, Jaskier continued walking before Geralt, rambling away at unrelated things while occasionally glancing at their passing reflections in store windows, watching for Geralt's expression. When Geralt thought that Jaskier wasn't looking, his eyes were, indeed, intent on Jaskier's ass. </p>
<p>This time, when Jaskier felt the satin bow slipping, he did nothing, letting the ribbons unspool against the backs of his thighs. He heard Geralt grumble and turned back innocently. "Is there something the matter?" he asked, noting that Geralt's hands were curled into fists. </p>
<p>"Nothing," Geralt growled, lengthening his stride until he was well ahead. But Jaskier wasn't about to release his new source of amusement so easily. When Geralt began questioning a noblewoman who seemed a little <i>too</i> interested in where Geralt would be spending the night, Jaskier felt some excuse to bend over in Geralt's sight line, the untied ribbons on the back of his doublet swaying tantalizingly as he shifted his hips. </p>
<p>"What is it?" the Baroness asked sharply when Geralt lost his train of thought for the third time that conversation. She turned abruptly, but only saw Jaskier leaning against the far wall, innocently examining the row of portraits above. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Without even realizing it, Geralt began bringing Jaskier small trophies. </p>
<p>It began in the woods, where Geralt was usually responsible for catching their supper because Jaskier was both uninterested and useless at such activities. Geralt began noticing a strange curl of pleasure in his stomach when he returned to camp with a brace of rabbits and was rewarded with Jaskier's excited smile. </p>
<p>A draconid tooth, a harpy feather. Some of Geralt's presents pleased Jaskier more than others. He had seemed horrified at the sandcrab carapace, though Geralt found the opalescent gleam rather pretty under the sun. </p>
<p>"This stuff belongs in a museum," Jaskier said, sorting through his now-bulging bag. It certainly made for amusing performances when some drunkard thought to challenge the claims made in Jaskier's songs, only to have proof of the real thing shoved in his face. </p>
<p>Geralt realized that Jaskier was waiting for his response and shrugged one shoulder. He didn't understand his compulsion to bring Jaskier these things, but after Jaskier had accepted the presents and expressed his approval, it mattered little to Geralt what he did with them afterwards. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>While Jaskier was happy to immortalize many of Geralt's finer qualities in verse, there were a few he chose to keep close to his heart.</p>
<p>Like the curve of Geralt's waist, when he trained so hard that sweat slicked his tunic to his chest and made it translucent in the sun. The small dimple that appeared on only his left cheek when he half-smiled in private amusement. The roughness in his voice when he'd just awoken, warm and husky in a way that sent shivers down Jaskier's spine. </p>
<p>(With the weather growing cold on the road, they had come to an unstated agreement to begin bedding down together, an arrangement which was quietly driving Jaskier mad.)</p>
<p>There was one thing, however, that Jaskier noticed recently which had quickly become his new obsession.</p>
<p>Geralt's eyes <i>dilated</i> when he became excited.</p>
<p>"Why are you staring at me?" Geralt asked suspiciously. </p>
<p>"No reason," Jaskier answered, thinking dismally that he was a cliche of a poet, scrawling <i>gold or amber? citrine? topaz?</i> in the margins of his notebook. He'd taken to wearing ribbons on his hat, a fashion that Geralt had insulted loudly many times (Jaskier took none of it to heart, because he well knew how ugly the thing was himself), even while his eyes flick-flick-flicked after the bobbing ends. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Jaskier had a child's manner of sleeping.</p>
<p>That is to say, sprawled over the sheets, the coverlet kicked to the bottom of the bed. He could afford this, too, since his body temperature ran hot even in the coldest of environs. To Geralt, who experienced <i>every</i> chill as an ache in his bones, this felt like a personal slight.  Jaskier slept as he lived - utterly defenseless, radiating warmth indiscriminately to an unfeeling world. </p>
<p>Geralt felt no guilt about taking advantage of this.</p>
<p>"Hey!" Jaskier yelped as Geralt slid his icy feet against his warm calves. </p>
<p>"Oops. Small bed," Geralt said unconvincingly. It was just for the warmth, he told himself. He had to pin Jaskier's limbs so he wouldn't smack Geralt off the bed. He had to curl around Jaskier's body because it was a bitterly cold autumn and the fire went out in the night. </p>
<p>Maybe he <i>didn't</i> have to bury his face in Jaskier's hair, which smelled of lavender oil and clean sweat, the strands brushing softly against Geralt's cheek. </p>
<p>But Jaskier was usually asleep by that point, so Geralt didn't feel the need to explain himself. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Geralt had such an unusually good rest that he awoke after Jaskier, and opened his eyes to find Jaskier considering him with a strange expression, propping himself up with one elbow.</p>
<p>"You purr, you know. In your sleep," Jaskier said. </p>
<p>"I don't," Geralt said, perhaps a little desperately. </p>
<p>Jaskier smiled. "It's quite sweet, really." He raised a hand and Geralt flinched, but his fingers were gentle and warm as they settled on the crown of Geralt's head. It felt like when Jaskier helped Geralt wash the muck from his hair (because he didn't <i>do</i> it right, according to Jaskier), and as Geralt's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, he thought the he could never, ever admit how much he enjoyed it.</p>
<p>Though he thought, perhaps, that Jaskier had some idea.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>"Ah," Jaskier said, his hand pausing in Geralt's hair. "I think I just realized something about myself." </p>
<p>Geralt flicked an annoyed look upwards, his mouth stretched wide around Jaskier's cock. </p>
<p>"Sorry, sorry," Jaskier laughed, resuming the slow petting of Geralt's head, gasping with surprised pleasure as Geralt's throat began vibrating with his purrs. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“Wait,” Geralt said before they entered the gates of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier blinked as Geralt swung off of Roach and walked towards him, grabbing Jaskier by his shoulders. </p>
<p>“What-” Jaskier said as Geralt dragged his cheek against Jaskier’s, then repeated it on the other side, his rough stubble prickling the skin on Jaskier’s face and neck. He finished with a clumsy kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. "Are you scent-marking me?" Jaskier asked breathlessly. </p>
<p>"Yes," Geralt said softly. "You're mine ... aren't you?" His gaze was so intent that Jaskier's heart tripped a beat. </p>
<p><i>Cats do choose their owners, after all,</i> Jaskier thought indulgently as he took Geralt’s hand and let him lead them into Kaer Morhen.</p>
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